How I Fought for My Marriage...and Won

Of course, in the weeks that followed, I learned that I could screw up my marriage all by myself, without the help of an alleged other woman. We both could. Because there was no other woman. Rather, we'd just stopped being loving spouses.

By the time my husband suggested separating, I had reached an epiphany. Our marriage was worth saving, I'd decided, and I was willing to do anything it took.

Unfortunately, Michael hadn't come to that same conclusion.

He kept flip-flopping. "I'm not going to leave you," he'd assure me over dinner at a nice restaurant, making it sound as if I was in the grip of some neurotic delusion, rather than suffering the after-effects of his separation suggestion. Then, the next night, out of the blue, over wine and takeout Chinese: "I don't think we're a good match for each other. I just don't know…"

I'd crumble. I'd sob. He'd waver. He'd assure me we were OK. We'd have desperate, tearful, phlegmy sex. I'd feel used. I'd feel confused. I'd feel exhausted.

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